


If Found Please Return to Anders

by druxykexy



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Blue Hawke, Bottom Anders, Comfort, Fluff, Humor, Isabela gives the best advice, Isabela gives the worst advice, Jealous Anders, M/M, the red favor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 07:36:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5819818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/druxykexy/pseuds/druxykexy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just because Anders isn't good at public affection, doesn't mean Hawke will seek it from someone else.</p>
<p>Or the one in which Anders doesn't heed Isabela's advice, and nothing goes the way he planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If Found Please Return to Anders

**Author's Note:**

> Beta read by [RowanBaines](http://archiveofourown.org/users/RowanBaines) (who is also entirely responsible for getting me into this fandom <3)

 

“Are you giving me dating advice now?” Anders asked Isabela. “Your attempt with Aveline almost got you punched.”

Isabela had followed him to his usual corner in the guard captain’s office while they waited for Hawke and Aveline to finish discussing Donnic. Fenris, thankfully, had stayed by the door.

“When you find a man worth hoarding all for yourself,” Isabela said as if he hadn’t interrupted, “you’ve got to do some territorial marking. Make sure everyone knows when they see him, exactly who he belongs to. It’s the only way to keep any who’ll come sniffing around at bay.”

“Territorial marking? You’re not suggesting I…” Anders lifted his brow, only half hiding his smirk. “While that might repel _some_ of the more persistent suitors, I don’t think it’s going to extend the length of our relationship.”

He waited for her to make a comment about _some people being into that_ , but she only sighed.

“I was thinking more along the lines of a little hand holding. A kiss hello. Something to indicate there is, well, _anything_ between the two of you.”

“That would be a less repulsive way to go about it, yes.”

“Unless you’re into that. I once knew a man from Antiva who—” She broke off, her attention caught by something on the other side of Aveline’s office.

Anders turned to follow her gaze, only to freeze—because Aveline was kissing Hawke.

It was over in an instant, and the conversation resumed, although it took Anders a moment to hear what they were saying.

“You know me better than anyone,” Aveline said. “There was never anything there but...did you ever wonder about you and I?”

“You were right. Donnic’s not like the others.”

“Hawke—”

“He’s a lucky man. Don’t look back,” Hawke said woefully.

_Woefully_? It was an act. Clearly. If Hawke had ever felt more than friendship for Aveline, Anders would certainly have known.

Aveline laughed and it was awkward, as if she were a little uncertain of Hawke’s intentions herself.

Anders looked away, carefully avoiding Isabela’s gaze, only to lock eyes with Fenris.

He watched the look of surprise on the elf’s face slip into one of concern, and Anders felt his annoyance grow. He’d have thought Fenris would be relieved at even the suggestion that Hawke was hooking up with an upstanding citizen, and not a filthy, filthy maleficar… Unless he was worried that Hawke’s betrayal would send Anders off into a flurry of blood magic and demon summoning.

Anders snorted at the imagery. And at himself. He was overreacting. A kiss didn’t have to mean anything between friends. Hawke wanted him and Aveline wanted Donnic. There was nothing to worry about on either side.

The conversation had already shifted onto some suspicious character or another, and Anders felt himself relax.

“Bet you’re relieved that’s settled,” Isabela said.

His shoulders went rigid again, and he cursed himself because there was no way she wouldn’t notice.

“It will be good if Aveline spends some time being happy.” Anders kept his tone light. “And less time trying to arrest apostates.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”

And even though he knew he’d regret it, he asked anyway, “Then what are you talking about?”

“Just that it must be a comforting that Hawke never gets the opportunity to wander. No matter what—or rather _who_ _—_ he tries to do they always turn him down.”

“I know you’re just trying to get under my skin.” Anders folded his arms over his chest. “It’s not going to work.”

“Now when has getting _under_ your skin been something I’ve ever been interested in?” She smiled. “I just thought you should know that even though Hawke is denied variety, he’s still a big fan of it. I mean, I only had the one night with him, but even so…speaking of which, does he still do that trick with the—”

“All that was before we got together. I’m not going to judge a man for his past,” Anders insisted, but it was hard not to stare at the red Amell scarf on her arm, the one she still wore for no reason he could fathom. He shook his head, strengthening his resolve. “It’s not like I don’t have one as well.”

"Mmm, true.” She let her eyes slowly roam over his body before returning them to his face. “Although the pattern still holds. Hawke wanted Fenris, but Fenris left, and then, well, who knows what would have happened had I taken him up on his offer to stay the whole night?”

“Do you have a point?”

She tapped a finger against her chin. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I am misreading the whole thing. After those first few rejections he must have been so grateful to have found someone so…well, so _you_.”

“You mean ‘desperate’?”

“I wasn’t going to come out and say it, no.” One side of her face quirked up into a grin.

“Why not? You say _everything_ else.” Anders realized he was squeezing his hands into fists, and he forced them to flatten, smoothing them along his coat.

“Don’t worry about Aveline, it’s only natural to have a yearning for new shores to plunder. Doesn’t mean the shore will let him land.”

“Hawke was only flirting with her to get her confidence up. That’s all. If he were really interested in her he wouldn't have worked so hard to get her with Donnic. He was only trying to help.”

“’Help,’ hmm.” She licked her lips. “Hawke _is_ good at that.”

“There wasn’t a single suggestive word in that statement. I don’t see how you can manage to say it like that.”

She shrugged, clearly pleased with herself.

Anders’ face was hot, and he opened his mouth to argue further, when he was interrupted by the approach of Hawke and Fenris.

"Isabela, just who I need." Hawke smiled at her.

It was irrational, but just this once he wished Hawke would have come up and kissed him right there on the spot. _Before_ talking to Isabela.

Although wanting affection primarily to win an argument was petty—at best. Anders winced at himself.

“We’re going to need some eyes and ears in the Blooming Rose,” Hawke continued, “and there might be a connection to one of your old friends.”

“One of my friends I wouldn’t mind losing?” Isabela asked.

“Definitely one of those.”

“Then I’m ready and willing.” Isabela flashed Anders a sly smile before directing a longer, sultrier one at Hawke. “All you have to say is when.”

“So who are we looking for?” Anders broke in. “Any identifying marks I should watch out for?”

Even though it was silly, Anders felt relief when Hawke’s attention shifted back to him.

“No sense in you going on this little errand.” Hawke shook his head. “I know you’ve been wanting to spend more time with your patients.”

It was true. Anders had even told him so that very morning.

“I’ll be going as well,” Fenris said, his fingers fidgeting, and Anders’ gaze fell on the red band around his wrist. “And we are unlikely to require healing in a brothel.”

“I don’t know,” Isabela said. “It all depends on what services are ordered—”

“No one is ordering any services,” Aveline cut in. “This is strictly business.”

It _was_ business—so what if it was at a whore house? Or if Hawke went with a few people he’d previously slept with—and Anders wasn’t invited…

Anders forced a smile. “That’s alright, I’ll see you tonight then.”

Hawke’s brow wrinkled in puzzlement. “I thought you said you weren’t coming to Wicked Grace night?”

“Oh. That’s right. I forgot what day it was.” He hadn’t been planning on it, although he was certainly reconsidering that now.

If he could do the day over again, he would go back and erase the entire conversation where he’d told Hawke he needed to spend more time working and less with him. Or at the very least he would have delayed it until tomorrow.

“Well,” Hawke said, giving him a lopsided smile, “I’ll probably stumble in after you’ve gone to bed. But I’m sure I’ll see you at breakfast.”

“I…” Anders was suddenly aware of several pairs of eyes on him. “I’ll see you then.”

Hawke gave him an odd look, but then shook his head as if he’d thought better of saying whatever it was that he’d been thinking. He gave Anders a polite nod.

Anders had made it clear that he didn’t think kissing in public, even for a quick goodbye, was a good idea. While their relationship wasn’t a secret, he didn’t think it was good for Hawke if people were constantly reminded that the rogue had taken up with a notorious apostate.

But as Hawke walked away, Anders could see how a little public affection could be reassuring.

 

###

 

Anders paused to straighten his coat before opening the door to the Hanged Man.

It had been a slow day at the clinic, and he’d managed to close shop only a little after the card game would have started. Really, there were lots of other nights when he could work late. The one where he spent a few hours losing at cards once a week didn’t have to be one of them. He’d been living with Hawke for almost a month now, and it was time he made some adjustments.

He passed the barmaid, Dora, on the way to Varric’s suite. She gave him a quick wave, which meant she’d bring his water up when she had a spare moment. Hopefully.

As he entered the room, his eyes went straight to Hawke’s usual seat, prepared to find his surprised but pleased expression—only to see that Hawke wasn’t there.

Anders frowned. There wasn’t anywhere else he was supposed to be. If Hawke had gotten injured they’d have brought him to the clinic.

Before he could examine his motivations, he made a tally of who else was there. He quickly checked off Isabela, Fenris, and Aveline with relief. Merrill, Donnic, and Varric were also present. Only Sebastian was missing, and surely he didn’t have to worry about him, not when the man had a chastity vow.

Maybe Hawke was using the privy.

“I thought you weren’t joining us,” Isabela said.

Anders shrugged. “There weren’t as many patients as expected today.” He sat down in his usual seat.

“You missed the excitement with Hawke and Sebastian.” The near purr in Isabela’s voice instantly set Anders on edge.

Aveline grinned. “Today does seem to be the day for romance.”

“Something in the air,” Donnic agreed, giving Aveline a soft look.

“What are all of you talking about?” Anders asked. Their comments coming so soon after his own errant thought created a strange sort of dread at the answer, but he did his best to push it away.

“Sebastian,” Varric said, “has finally seen the light. And when they come back I say we all drink a round in honor of the end of the chastity vow.” He held up a glass in anticipation.

Anders felt his stomach drop. _Was_ Hawke down the hall having a tumble with Sebastian?

No, that was unthinkable. It had to be a joke. Rationally he knew that, he just needed a moment to get his pulse to accept it as well.

“You don’t think Hawke will be too rough with him?” Merrill asked. “I walked past the room a minute ago and things were…a bit loud.”

“Sebastian’s a big boy.” Isabela leered. “He can take it.”

While it was believable that Isabela had made up a story about Hawke shagging the choir boy just to get a rise out of him, it was difficult to imagine that she’d gotten everyone else to go along with it.

Anders looked from one smiling face to the next. They did know Hawke and Anders were together…didn’t they?

“Doesn’t anyone have a problem with this?” Anders asked, the request more a plea than anything else.

“Oh come now, you didn’t think Sebastian would hold out forever did you, Blondie?” Varric gave him a wry look. “If anybody knows how to talk their way around a vow, it’s a Hawke. You of all people would know.”

The nonchalance with which he said it, as if it was obvious that Anders had been just another notch on Hawke’s bedpost, lanced straight through his heart.

It was difficult to believe that he could have been that blind. They’d moved in together. He’d thought—but did Hawke really want him there? It was something he’d worried about before. It had occurred to Anders later that Hawke hadn’t truly asked him to move in. He’d mentioned that Anders needed a safer place to live—and then Anders had invited himself. Maker, he _was_ a fool.

Dora brought him his water but he barely noticed it.

“I’m surprised at you, Anders,” Aveline said. “I know you were never too fond of Sebastian, but I thought you’d be happy for them.”

“You thought…” It was all Anders could do not to sputter. “You thought I’d be _happy_ for them?”

Varric frowned, but before he could say anything, a heavy tread sounded down the hall.

Anders turned to see Sebastian at the door. His eyes were downcast as if he were having difficulty meeting the gaze of anyone at the table, and it wasn’t lost on Anders that his face was flushed and his hair was pushed up on one side.

Or that a red scarf was prominently displayed on his arm.

“How _dare_ you.” Anders surged to his feet, his chair clattering to the ground behind him.

Sebastian had almost reached his seat, but he stopped, his eyes widening.

Anders jabbed a finger in his direction. “You bloody hypocrite!”

Sebastian’s shame gave way to indignation. “I don’t see how it’s any of your business.”

“None of my business? How like you to only be concerned with yourself and your interests. Never worry about who you step on to get what you want.”

“You’re going too far, Anders.” Aveline sprang to her feet, ready to intercede. “You need to sit down.”

Her disapproval rankled. “Oh is that how it is? It’s _funny_ that Hawke’s left me and taken up with—” he waved a hand at Sebastian “— _that_. Maybe all of you enjoy sitting there looking smug with your matching arm bands in the slept-with-Hawke brigade, but it wasn’t just a _fling_ for me, it wasn’t just a…” he trailed off as he watched their faces become progressively more dumbfounded.

All except for Isabela’s. Her eyes were bright and shining, and her hands were clamped over her mouth as she shook with barely contained _laughter_.

Sebastian took a step toward him, his hands balling into fists.

Anders braced himself. He absolutely wasn’t above using a spell and smiting him if this turned violent.

But Sebastian only said, “You—you think I slept with _Hawke_?”

Anders glowered at him. “You’re really going to deny it? When you’re plainly wearing the ‘thank you very much for igniting my world’ party favor?”

Isabela lost the final dregs of her self-control, sliding down in her seat, her laughter ringing out.

“That is not the meaning of a favor, mage,” Fenris snapped.

Anders rounded on him. “Oh, did I touch a _button,_ Fenris? After what—”

“Anders, that’s enough,” Hawke said from somewhere behind him.

Anders froze, dread chilling his veins. He wasn’t ready to confront Hawke yet. Especially not here, not now, and certainly not in front of everyone.

“Hawke did not give me the favor,” Sebastian said, slowly, as if Anders was too addlebrained to understand any other speed. “Bethany gave it to me because she cares for me—as I do her—and not because we did anything indecent.”

And maybe Anders _was_ addlebrained because all he seemed to be able to do was repeat that one word. “Bethany?”

“You should be ashamed that you would assume such a thing about Hawke,” Sebastian continued, “when all he was doing was giving a suitor for his sister a…a concerned brother talk. And whatever our differences are, I would have thought you’d have known I wasn’t the type of man to steal someone’s beloved out from beneath them.”

“Although that does paint quite the picture,” Isabela said.

A concerned brother talk? Just about the only thing Hawke ever got aggressive about was when he thought his sister might come to harm, and a suitor—any suitor—was likely to get the brunt of that. Had Anders arrived earlier, he might have actually enjoyed watching Sebastian have to face down Hawke. But instead…

He’d finally done it. Acted like a total lunatic in front of everyone. In front of _Hawke_. He couldn’t blame it on being possessed, or drunk, or even darkspawn. This was all him, jealous and behaving badly.

“I thought…” Anders couldn’t continue. No amount of groveling would undo this or make him look any better. He felt the blood rush to his face, and his hand crept up to cover what was surely an unsightly shade of red.

Hawke was quiet, and Anders could only imagine what he was thinking. That the rumors were true. That anyone, anything, had to be better than this. Being alone would be better. Hawke didn’t need to be lured away—Anders would drive him off all by himself.

Hawke stepped forward to stand beside him. But Anders kept his eyes cast down. If possible, he intended to never look at him again. Or up. Or at anything.

“Well,” Hawke said finally, in that same pleasant tone he used when negotiating with everyone, whether they were grieving mothers or blood mages. “I think this is going to require a gesture.”

And before Anders could even begin to fathom what that meant, he felt strong hands on his hips and found himself being lifted.

“Wait—what are you doing?” Anders cried out as he was hoisted over Hawke’s shoulder. Was he going to toss him out of the bar? Like an unruly drunk sent to sleep it off in the streets? He refused to go that way. He was perfectly capable of slinking off in shame on his own two feet. He struggled to get out of Hawke’s grasp.

“Cut it out.” Hawke reached up and _swatted_ him. “You’re going to topple us both.”

Anders gasped, stunned into stillness, and—in spite of the circumstances—maybe the tiniest bit aroused.

“My apologies, Varric,” Hawke said, “but I’m going to need to borrow the room a little longer.”

“Go on, sort it out.” Varric waved them on. “But if anything happens, you’re paying to clean my sheets.”

At least Anders would be able to blame how red his face was from being upside down.

Hawke laughed. “You have my word.”

Anders managed to hold his tongue more from shock than anything like dignity—although later he’d tell himself that was the reason—as Hawke carried him from the room.

Somehow Hawke was able to unlock the door to the room he’d so recently met with Sebastian in, let them in, and relock it all without setting Anders down.

As Anders was deposited on the bed, he was secretly pleased to note that the covers were still neatly made. Of course, that only reaffirmed how much apologizing he had ahead of him.

But before he could begin to find the words, Hawke was on top of him.

Anders froze as Hawke began pressing brief, determined kisses all over his face and neck.

“What are you doing?” Anders managed finally, dragging his focus away from Hawke’s hot breath and the scratch of his beard against his skin.

“Reassuring you of where my interest lies.” Hawke paused to look at him. “Did you really think I would do something like that…and with Sebastian?” Hawke made a face.

Anders winced. “Well, some people seem to like those frigid lyrium blue eyes.”

“So just one pair of pretty eyes and you’d think I’d drop you?”

“No, of course not. It’s just earlier…”

“Earlier?”

“With Aveline.”

Hawke looked genuinely confused and Anders wished he hadn’t brought it up.

“You mean the kiss?” Hawke said finally. “That was just her way of saying thank you.”

“It wasn’t the kiss. Never mind, it was nothing.”

“Wait—you can’t mean the flirting?” Hawke shifted onto one elbow so he could better look at Anders’ face, and making it somewhat difficult for Anders to stare past him at the ceiling.

“I was trying to raise her confidence,” Hawke continued, “to make it easier for her to go after Donnic. And then, well, as bad as that was going I thought if I made him a little jealous he’d step up. They’re both hopeless really…I thought you understood that, or else I wouldn’t have—”

“I _did_ understand that. Your plan was good. I thought you had a decent shot.”

“Then why?”

Admitting that Isabela had succeeded in winding him up the way she had was proving difficult. Anders remained silent.

“You’re hiding something.” Hawke’s eyes narrowed, and Anders looked away—which probably wasn’t the best way to prove him wrong.

“I see,” Hawke said after a moment.

Anders felt a flutter of shame. Not enough to make him say anything, but it was there nonetheless.

“So we’re going to play it that way.” Hawke reached up and began undoing the fastenings on Anders’ coat.

“Um…what way is that?” Heat flushed through him as Hawke’s fingers worked their way closer to his skin.

“That either you tell me…” Hawke peeled the coat off and dropped in on the floor. “Or I’ll have to find a way to punish you.”

The words sent a jolt through Anders, and one look at Hawke’s eyes said he knew it too.

“As moral as you always strive to be,” Anders said, fighting not to sound breathless, “you certainly don’t hesitate to use my fantasies against me.”

“Well, if it works…” Hawke stroked his hand down Ander’s chest to palm his erection.

“Don’t look so smug,” Anders said, turning his head to hide his grin.

“So…” Hawke crooked a finger under Anders’ chin to draw him back, kissing him lightly. “Are you going to tell me or am I going to have to follow through?”

“You’re too nice.”

For a split second Hawke looked offended. “Am I doing it wrong again? Should I—”

“No, no, I didn’t mean— _this_ is working quite well.” Anders took a breath and forced himself to continue. “You’re too nice to _other_ people.”

Hawke’s brow drew together. “Let me get this straight, you want me to start being mean to—”

“No that’s not right either. It’s just...when you flirt.”

Hawke’s frown deepened. “I’ve always flirted with everyone—and so do you.”

“I know, but…” Anders struggled to find the words to explain himself. “People might think you’re serious. Because of how nice you are.”

Hawke gave him a look. “But not when you do it, because you’re not nice?”

“I’m not.”

Hawke rolled his eyes. “I forgot, you’re the bane of Andraste, a raging wyvern, an ogre with the breath of—”

“How can you joke about this after you saw how badly I acted today?” Anders glanced at Hawke, caught sight of two very big, very skeptical brown eyes, and made a sound halfway between a whine and a groan. “I’m sorry, love. I don’t mean to be crazy, it’s just…”

“I drive you mad with jealousy?”

“It’s not funny.” Anders tried to cover his brow with a hand, but Hawke stopped him, catching his fingers in his own.

“You don’t do yourself any favors in that you’re adorable when you’re jealous.” He drew Anders’ hand to his lips and lightly kissed his knuckles.

“I yelled at all your friends.”

“You did.” Hawke’s voice was as reasonable as ever, but Anders thought he detected a hint of amusement in it. “Although, I will point out that they’re your friends too.”

Anders wasn’t so sure of that, but now wasn’t the time to argue the point, so instead he allowed Hawke to kiss him. It was slow and searching, holding as much affection as heat. It did make him feel better, even if he wasn’t sure he deserved to.

Hawke was the first to break the silence. “I can’t promise that I won’t ever flirt again—”

“I wouldn’t ask—”

“But I _can_ promise that it will never go any further than that.” Hawke gave him a solemn nod. “You’re the only one for me.”

And that was it, Anders melted into him. Hawke always had this effect on him. No matter how much he tried to fight it, tried to convince himself that he was terrible for Hawke or that they were doomed, all that had to happen was a few moments of being the center of Hawke’s focus and he was lost. This feeling, this love and understanding, was impossible to resist.

“And that if I do make you jealous,” Hawke continued, “then I will do everything in my power to make it up to you.”

Anders shifted underneath him. “Everything?”

Hawke lifted an eyebrow. “Do you think you’ve earned a thorough everything?”

“Oh, yes.” Anders smiled up at him, trying to shift his tone from love-dazed to desirable. “ _Please_.”

Hawke snorted, so he wasn’t sure how successful he was, but then it didn’t matter because Hawke was kissing him again. This time it was demanding, and as his tongue sought entry Anders readily opened to him. His hands wound into Hawke’s hair, reveling in the feel of him.

Hawke broke the kiss, mouthing his way down Anders’ throat, his teeth just grazing the skin. Hawke’s hand returned to caress Anders’ length through his breeches, pressing and massaging him through the fabric.

Anders moaned, pushing his hips off the mattress and into the capable fingers. It was clear that Hawke was eager to please, that all Anders had to do was ask and he could have whatever he wanted. But—Maker, help him—the only thing he craved right now was closeness. He wanted Hawke molded against him, his breath hot in his ear as he thrust inside of him. He needed to feel like he belonged to Hawke—like they belonged to each other.

Hawke opened his mouth, no doubt to make some amazing offer Anders wouldn’t be able to refuse.

So before that could happen, Anders blurted, “Want you in me, love. Want to feel you.”

Hawke’s breath caught, and he kissed Anders again, hard, possessive, before pulling away to seize one of Anders’ boots. He deftly loosened the laces and tossed it on the floor. When Anders reached down to help, he found himself pushed back on the mattress.

“You don’t have to remove everything,” Anders offered, impatient.

“I want you naked for this.”

A thrill went through Anders at the way he said that—not that he would ever admit that out loud. “Then I’m happy to oblige.”

Hawke worked fast, divesting Anders of the rest of clothes until he was down to his breeches. He hooked his fingers into Anders’ waistband, tugging his pants and smalls down at once. He licked and kissed at the flesh as it was exposed below his stomach and along his hips. Hawke’s beard brushed Anders’ skin teasingly.

Anders squirmed impatiently. “You’re cruel.”

“Odd,” Hawke said, pausing where his lips had been nuzzling short blonde hairs. “A moment ago I could have sworn you said I was too nice.”

Anders growled, reaching to pull Hawke up to him, and Hawke went willingly, giving him a crooked smile as he spread himself on top of Anders. His leather armor made a rough contrast to Anders’ exposed skin.

“Now this isn’t exactly fair,” Anders said, his fingers going to one of the many buckles and straps that needed to be unfastened.

Hawke seemed to decide he’d had enough of teasing him—or else he’d teased himself enough too—and he helped to remove his own clothes, kicking off his boots and lying naked on top of him.

Hawke kept oil in his pack for occasions such as this—and had since long before Anders met him—but as long as it was only used with him now, then he guessed it was ok. It was convenient after all.

Hawke pushed into Anders, slow at first, kissing his face and neck. It was still a thrill to be able to take their time with this. Being able to strip down and explore each other without fear of discovery.

“I love you,” Anders said, lost in the bliss of his touch, and Hawke kissed him deep and long.

Anders came first, with Hawke seated deep inside him and his hand wrapped around his cock, and he was just coherent enough to hear Hawke gasp Anders’ name when he reached his own release.

Once their breathing slowed, Hawke rolled off of him. “We’re going to need a bath when we get home.”

Anders liked the way he said that. _We_. At their home.

It wasn’t until his insecurities had been stirred to the surface that Anders realized how much he’d been holding his breath, waiting for reality to set in and the whole thing to fall apart.

He turned toward Hawke and ran a finger down his smooth chest. He’d always expected more hair, considering the beard and all, but he had no complaints.

“We probably shouldn’t linger too long up here,” Hawke said, slipping away from him to untangle their clothes on the floor.

Anders nodded, but he wasn’t ready to move just yet. “So, how come you never gave me one of your little red scarves? Not that I want one, mind you. I’ve always been one to stand apart from the crowd. I’m just…curious.”

Hawke frowned as he slid on his pants. “What little red scarves?”

“The kind you gave Isabela and Fenris, and that your sister gave Sebastian.”

“You mean the favors?”

“If that’s what they’re called, then yes.”

“They’re not customarily given to people like you.”

Anders blinked at him before his eyes narrowed. “People like me?”

Hawke paused, his chest piece hanging loosely. “You do know what they’re for, don’t you?”

“To make sure the whole world knows you slept with an Amell?”

Hawke gaped at him, as if Anders had said something not just scandalous but completely and utterly wrong.

“Or—er—not,” Anders continued quickly. “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with the custom. It did seem like an odd way to mark conquests.”

“It’s not—how could you think—Maker, why didn’t you _say_ anything?”

“I didn’t want to sound…” Anders cast around for any other word to describe what he’d felt, before giving up and using the honest one. “Jealous.”

Hawke sat down on the bed. He reached out to smooth Anders’ hair from his face.

“A favor,” Hawke said, “is something you give a knight, a warrior, or anyone along those lines before they go into battle. You...” He paused as if to turn the words over in his head, making sure to find the best ones. "It's something you give to someone you could have something with, where the possibility is there. It’s a desire, a maybe. It can turn into something, or not, but it’s always a way of saying that it matters to you that they return safely.”

“That’s more…complicated and…thoughtful, than I was expecting. And it makes sense, Fenris is a warrior, but Isabela…” Anders nodded after a moment’s thought. “She is as well. I’ve healed her often enough, particularly since she insists on diving into battle with just her wits, a pair of knives, and a few scraps of cloth.”

He must have sounded testy over that because Hawke leaned in to kiss him on the cheek.

“And they are both people who I want to stay healthy and alive for a very long time,” Hawke said. “They’re important to me.”

“So in our relationship,” Anders said as he reached for his smalls, “since I'm a healer and not the diving-in-with-blades-waving type, it should have been me who gave you a favor?”

“I don’t expect us to follow the same traditions.”

“Too bad I don’t have a family to borrow a crest from.”

“It doesn’t have to be that. You could use anything significant. Design something.”

“Design something?” Anders raised an eyebrow. “Be careful what you let me do.”

“I would proudly wear anything you wanted to put on me.” Hawke grinned, leaning against the bedpost as he watched Anders finish dressing. “Even if it said ‘property of Anders’ in big letters.”

Anders snorted, but his heart warmed the way it always did when Hawke said ridiculous things like that. “You’d be better off with one that said ‘Maker, help me.’”

Hawke pressed his lips to the side of Anders’ face for a long moment before pulling back.

Once they finished getting ready, they left the room, and Hawke locking the door behind them.

Anders hesitated at the end of the hallway. “I think walking through that door is going to be a lot harder than the last time.”

“I don’t seem to remember you doing much of the walking.”

Anders huffed, but then shook his head, offering a wry smile.

“But if you think it would make it easier,” Hawke continued, “I could always carry—”

“No. No, thank you.” Anders held up a hand in protest.

Hawke took his hand, linking their fingers together. He waited for a moment, as if to see if Anders would snatch it away.

After the ordeal earlier, the idea of a little public acknowledgement, particularly among friends, held appeal. At the very least if they were holding hands he was less likely to run screaming back out of the room.

Hawke grinned, and it was so bright that Anders felt like a heel for not allowing this sooner.

Hawke led the way to the table, and Anders was happy to lag behind him. He was disappointed that everyone was still there. Although maybe that was for the best. Get it all over with at once.

“So you finally decided to join us,” Varric said, thankfully sounding more amused than irritated.

Hawke started to pull Anders towards the chairs, but he stopped him with a gentle squeeze of his fingers.  He noticed Isabela’s eyes on their hands, and though he felt his cheeks start to redden again, he didn’t pull away.

“About earlier,” Anders said, not able to look at anyone in particular or for too long. “Sorry about that. It was a misunderstanding.”

“Clearly,” Fenris said. His tone was gruff but not particularly unkind.

“Apology accepted,” Sebastian said.

Silently Anders assured himself Sebastian didn’t actually mean to sound smug, and that he was owed this one victory. He congratulated himself for staying quiet as he took his seat beside Hawke.

Fenris slid a glass of water toward Anders.

It was warm, and Anders suspected it was the same one he’d ordered earlier. It occurred to him that, after Hawke, there was no one else he would feel more comfortable with guarding an unattended drink. Not that it had been in much danger in Varric’s suite, but he still appreciated the thought

Anders gave Fenris a nod that was slight enough to make it easy for the elf to pretend not to notice.

“Well, I think tonight was a rollicking success.” Isabela grinned at them.

“Excuse me?” Anders said.

“Oh, come now, you two looked like you needed a good spat.”

“You wanted us to fight?” Hawke asked, considerably more politely than Anders had been about to.

“Mm, and you can thank me any time for the makeup sex. Look at Anders, he’s practically cherry colored. You—” She managed to point at Hawke with most of her hand wrapped around a beer mug. “Must have done a good job curling his toes.”

Hawke frowned. “Isabela—”

“Although when I first started poking at your mage I had no idea Bethany was going to have such amazing timing. That worked out better than I expected.”

“I should have known this was your fault, tart,” Aveline said.

“Always happy to get my share of the credit.”

“You’re going to get more than that.”

“Just don’t go giving her one of those kisses of gratitude,” Anders said.

Aveline attention snapped to look at him and he took a sip of his water. Not that he was hiding behind his glass or anything.

Donnic didn’t say anything, but the way his lip curled into what was probably supposed to pass for a smile was rather intimidating.

“Isabela says kissing puts hair on your chest,” Merrill said, leaning forward conspiringly. “That’s what makes Varric so furry. He’s a popular one.”

Varric snorted. He started to speak, but Merrill continued before he could.

“Funny, it doesn’t seem to do the same for Isabela.” Merrill nodded solemnly. “And I’ve tested thoroughly.”

“Tested?” Anders glanced at Hawke, who shrugged.

“Oh, with the kissing, and no matter how much we do it, I never seem to find even a single hair on her breasts. And I’ve been very thorough with my checking.”

Anders inhaled sharply, and Isabela spit her beer out onto the table and her lap. Merrill lifted her own glass to her lips and a tiny wicked smile was tucked out of view as she took a sip.

It wasn’t the first time Anders had glimpsed that she was aware of more than she let on. Not that anybody ever believed him when he tried to point it out.

“Balls,” Isabela said, dabbing at her skirt. “This is going to stain.”

“Oh that’s terrible.” Merrill sat her drink down, concern all over her face. “Want me to help you wash it? My fingers are very good at rubbing.”

Isabela stared at her, her expression shifting from searching to interest to something else. “I would love your help, kitten.”

Neither of them seemed to be paying much attention to anyone but each other as they said their goodbyes.

“And that, folks,” Varric said, flagging down Dora as she passed in the hallway, “is the cue for another round.”

Hawke put his arm around the back of Anders’ chair, his fingers rubbing small circles on his shoulder.

It occurred to Anders that up until now, he’d never actually been allowed to display affection. He’d always told himself he refused for Hawke’s sake—but now he was beginning to wonder, just how much of it was conditioning?

Whatever it was, he resolved not to discourage him quite so much, as he leaned into Hawke’s touch.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So I’ve been replaying this game (and romancing Anders) with different versions of Hawke’s personalities over and over, but in my blue-flirty/promiscuous play-through the whole Aveline kiss thing made me feel so bad! I mean Anders was standing right there and Hawke was all mopey and just GAH...precious damaged feather mage, no….
> 
> Anyway, I wrote this to make it better?
> 
> Also, the more I play this game, the more I’m convinced Merrill is secretly trolling all of them.


End file.
